A soft smile later, she reaches for the door. She’s on the top step of the porch when I stop her.

“Wait, please,” I call, jumping out of the truck.

She turns on the porch, planting her smile weakly, like she no longer has the energy to keep it up. At the bottom step, I take her in unsurely. I should be driving away with my Sunday open and my conscience somewhat cleared.

Instead, I say, “I like you, too.”

Her tired smile widens. “Wow, Grouchy Tripp. Did that hurt?”

“A little,” I chuckle. “I want to spend Sunday with you doing errands. Truth.”

“In that case,” she says slowly, “errands sound nice.”

“Ten too early?”

She scoffs. “Only for vampires. I’ll be ready.”

“Good night, Marina.”

“Good night, Tripp Grady Tripp.”

22. Marnie

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

Marnie

Grady smiles coyly from the driver’s side of The Beast when he pulls up to the house the next morning, and finds me waiting on the porch for him. My stomach erupts with little somersaults over his unabashed smile—I love that he’s no longer stingy with them.

“Ah, Grady. The Beast? For me?” I coo, descending the stairs.

He slaps the side of the old truck, grinning. “Thought you’d prefer it.”

Grady Tripp considered my preference? A bit tickled by the gesture, I feel my cheeks flush. I circle the classic truck and climb onto the leather bench seat.

“So, where to?”

I twist in my seat to see him clearly, but hesitate to deliver the mini-speech I prepared. He’s more handsome than usual, which seems impossible. He’s clean-shaven and a hair above casual in his dark jeans, long-sleeved blue and gray shirt, and white sneakers. Even the air collected in the cab around him screams classy. He’s wearing cologne, a gentle mix of cedar and ginger that’s incredibly pleasant.

Everything about Grady is pleasant—a surprise, given his whole Grouchy Tripp reputation.

A second passes, and he says, “You look nice,” beating me to the words I want to say to him.

I did make an effort—my mission today required it. A sage green maxi dress that I bought for my honeymoon combined with a little jean jacket and white tennis shoes for a chic, casual vibe that hopefully says I’m doing just fine, even if it’s not 100% true.

“Thanks. You, too. We look like we could be on a date,” I tease.

He huffs. “I don’t date, but if this were one, you’d know it. Now, where to?”

“Wait, you don’t date? Ever? Why not?”

“Don’t want to. Quit distracting me, and tell me where to go.”

“It might sound weird.”

“Marina, tell me.”

“Sunny’s Beach Market at Carolina Beach,” I blurt, determined to get it out. “I know it’s a haul. I’ll pay for gas⁠—”

“Why?”

“Ashe has something that belongs to me, and I want to get it back.”